


One in the Same, Sharing All but a Name

by Shklance_Beef_Sandwich



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), But Also Pining, Endgame Shiro/Kuro, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Shirocest Big Bang 2019, There's a lot of Sheith in this fanfic, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Kuro (Voltron), When it's not smutty, blade of mamora, fwb Sheith, it's emotional, set in season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shklance_Beef_Sandwich/pseuds/Shklance_Beef_Sandwich
Summary: Set toward the beginning of the series, Shiro meets Kuro, a carbon copy of himself who relives the trauma Shiro went through during his time as Zarkon's prisoner and Champion, but acts cocky and confident in order to hide the pain.Shiro's determined to help him, but realises in the end that there's nothing he can do but let it play out as it had for him.Meanwhile, Shiro has to lead Voltron, help Keith with discovering his past and fight against the Galran Empire.What could possibly go wrong?





	One in the Same, Sharing All but a Name

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Shirocest Big Bang!
> 
> Thank you to my partner for making an Awesome (and nsfw) piece to go with this work which you can find [Here](https://twitter.com/AniDragonCreate/status/1161331082987528193?s=20), and be sure to go check out the other amazing posts over on the Shirocest Big Bang [Tumblr](https://shirocestbang.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm posting this way too late, and I'm not gonna lie, this isn't my best work  
A lot of it is quite rushed/didn't turn out like I'd planned but I had to get something out there
> 
> I ended up stressing myself a lot over this, but I did put a lot of love and effort into a huge portion of this, just some of it...isn't how I'd like it to be, but I hope to make for it in the future
> 
> There is some descriptions of gore, and general violence (from scenes where I had to pretty much write down what happened in episodes of the show with my little twists on it here and there), but nothing too bad, but I thought I'd put the warning for those who don't like it

It had started out as reoccurring dreams Shiro could have sworn were memories; something at the back of his mind, seperate from the nightmares but ever present, golden eyes on his younger self’s face.

A voice, his own, but different from his minds’ usual echo, speaking to him over his thoughts.

He chalks it up to being crazy, a symptom of his trauma, nothing more.

That is, until it was something more.

Not only some_thing_, but some_one_.

Shiro yawns when the door to his room slides closed, the click of the lock and small light flicking from teal to yellow a finalising signal that he’s now alone, and free to rest as long as he needs.

Well, as long as he can until the next alarm sounds out for another mission.

He contemplates doing a rep or two of push-ups, looking down at his clenched right fist, metal glinting subtly in the low light of the room, and he sighs, deciding against it, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

There’s a faint rustle of movement, and Shiro at first thinks it’s the mice rummaging around his room, but then he gets the sense that he’s being watched, goosebumps raising along his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck standing, and he stares at the floor uneasily.

_Shiro…_

It’s like a cool breeze washes over him, a whispered voice making him gasp and look up, the door of his closet open, sparse clothes pushed aside, and there, against the far wall, is a man.

Shiro stands abruptly, ignoring the rush of blood that has his head spinning, vision growing dark around the edges for a second, quickly stepping forward and peering closer at the thing watching him.

It’s a mirror, it has to be. That, or he’s hallucinating, the figure staring back at him is, well, _him,_ but it’s also not.

Shaking hands tentatively raise to touch at the corners of his eyes, glowing bright gold, no iris in sight. Fingers lower to his lips, tugging the upper to expose gums, a pointed canine.

His reflection smirks, hands lowering as a dark chuckle rings out, and the figure that’s him but also not shakes his head slowly.

“Calm down, Takashi,” The man says, head tilting in the face of Shiro’s shock. “I’m just messin’ with you.”

“Who- who are you?” Shiro asks, taking a step back at the same time the carbon copy of himself steps forward, mimicking his movements as if he really were a mirror. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m the manifestation of your deepest insecurities, Shiro.” The man starts, still walking after Shiro, until the backs of his knees hit the bed frame, and he falls back onto the mattress, staring up at the man as he looms ever closer. “And your most private desires. At least, that’s what I’ve been told, I am. I’m…like a mirage, so to speak.” He continues, smiling in a way that’s almost sly, bracing himself on a hand placed above Shiro’s head. “Except, I’m very much real…”

Shiro swallows thickly, staring wide eyed, unsure if he’s even _breathing_ right now.

“Who are you?” He asks again, and is pretty sure the man above him rolls his eyes, though it’s hard to tell.

“I’m assuming you want a name?” He starts, and Shiro bobs his head in some semblance of a nod. “You can call me Kuro.” He says, smiling down at Shiro.

“What sent you here?” Shiro then asks, and Kuro purses his lips.

“Your mind?” He says, posing it like a question. “I’m not too sure…all I know is that I’m here now.”

“Can you…” Shiro clears his throat, gaze flicking between Kuro’s eyes, the glowing golden seemingly boring into his very being. “Can you leave?” He asks, and Kuro huffs, almost a laugh, leaning back so Shiro has at least a little breathing room.

“Possibly. Though, I don’t know where I’d go.” He says, glancing around the room. “I don’t know what the purpose of my being here is supposed to be…” He continues, voice low.

“Is this some sort of test?” Shiro asks, sitting up as Kuro backs off, watching as he paces. “Some mind trick from Haggar?”

“Again, I don’t know.” Kuro says, a little impatient, a tad indignant, coming back over toward Shiro on his bed, sitting back on his haunches and folding his arms. “I just…I was surrounded by nothing, for a while, heard and saw nothing, and then I heard you, and knew I had to follow, to find out where you were.” Kuro’s voice lowers until he’s practically whispering, iris-less eyes glancing upward, meeting Shiro’s eye. “And then I found you, and now we’re here.”

“You felt nothing, before tonight?” Shiro asks, tentative, and Kuro purses his lips, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I was anything until an hour or so, ago.”

That demeanour of his fades somewhat, and he looks almost scared, seated between Shiro’s thighs as he is, looking around, averting his gaze as much as possible, unsure.

“So then…what are we supposed to do?” Shiro asks, and Kuro looks back toward him, opening his mouth as if to answer, but his eyes widen, and he all but surges forward, face mere inches from Shiro’s, left hand grabbing at Shiro’s collar hard enough to tug him forward with a jerk, before he disappears.

Just like that.

Shiro blinks, and he’s gone.

He lays there, panting on his bed, legs spread where they were accomodating Kuro kneeling between them, and he frantically searches around the room, head turning this way and that, expecting a short laugh and another “I’m just joking,” quip from…

From Kuro.

Shiro’s breathing slowly evens out, and he flops backward against the mattress, pinching himself, literally, wincing when he feels it, staring up at the ceiling.

So it wasn’t a dream…it felt like nothing Shiro’s ever experienced before, so surreal in the sense that he can’t fathom it ever being something his mind would conjure up whilst conscious, but here we are.

Here he is.

Shiro sighs, dragging a hand down his face and finally moving to strip himself of his clothes, opting to skip his shower for the night in order to get some rest, sliding beneath the covers in nothing but his boxers, lying on his back with an arm beneath his head, staring at the ceiling for what feels like several hours before finally, blissfully, falling into a shallow sleep.

* * *

Shiro chalks it up to being an intense fever dream the next morning, wandering the halls of the castle, the atmosphere quiet, still early enough that mostly everyone is either asleep or in their rooms.

He decides to get some extra exercise in, do something aside from push-ups beside his bed in the limited space of his quarters, entering the training deck only to realise it’s already occupied.

Keith dodges a blow from the sentry he’s fighting, bending back and swooping to the side, ducking around and kicking its back with a grunt, sending the robotic fighter stumbling forward a couple paces before it whips around, dragging the staff it holds with it, and Keith’s forced to duck and roll out of range.

That’s when he seems to notice Shiro in the room, just as he kicks out, leg colliding with the back of the sentry’s knees and sending it flat on its back, staff rolling out of its grip.

The sentry stays still for a second, before it glitches, and the light of its singular eye goes dark, and a voice rings out above them.

_“Level eight, complete.”_

“End training sequence.” Keith says, panting slightly, and the sentry disintegrates into pixels.

He stands straight, rolling his shoulder somewhat, a faint pop sounding from the bone, and Shiro walks up to him, smiling easily.

“Morning.” He says, and Keith nods.

“Hey.” He gives Shiro a small smile, folding his arms. “Come to workout?” He asks.

“Something like that,” Shiro answers, looking around. “You too tired for a spar?”

Keith’s smile widens, almost sly, raising an eyebrow. “Not at all.”

They tape their knuckles and strip themselves of shoes and shirts, Shiro leaving on his tank top as him and Keith circle one another.

Keith makes the first move, lunging at Shiro in a way he can quickly step away from, spinning with an outstretched leg that Keith manages to dodge, throwing out a fist Shiro ducks under, but he cops a knee to the chest as he does so, and he stumbles, eyes wide, fleetingly seeing Keith’s smirk before he’s lunging again, tackling Shiro none too gently to the ground where they grapple.

“You’re not very attentive today,” Keith says, straddling Shiro’s side, holding onto his prosthetic arm and holding his ground, even as Shiro thrashes beneath him. “Are you okay?” He asks, and Shiro slumps.

“Didn’t get any sleep…” He mumbles, waiting until Keith loosens his grip slightly before shifting suddenly, throwing Keith to the ground and pinning him with his weight, holding his arms above his head with his prosthetic, alone, tangling their legs in a way that has Keith unable to move his own.

“Well played,” Keith pants, testing Shiro’s hold on him, slumping. “I yield.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow, humming as he lets go of Keith’s wrists, untangling their legs and sitting back before rolling to the side, sitting beside Keith.

“That was the quickest spar we’ve had since we started.” He says, and Keith huffs a small laugh, staring at the ceiling.

“I was genuinely concerned, and you used it against me.” He says, turning his head to glance at Shiro. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Not really, no.” Shiro admits, staring at the ground. “Had weird dreams.”

“Nightmare weird, or hippos serenading you weird?” Shiro looks to Keith with a raised eyebrow, and the boy shrugs. “Brains do whatever they want, man.”

Shiro huffs, shaking his head, but his smile slowly fades. “There was…a clone, I guess.” Shiro starts, brow furrowing. “Said his name was Kuro, or, for me to call him that. He appeared, talked for a bit, then vanished.” Shiro looks to Keith with a shrug, noting his confused expression. “Brains do whatever they want.” He echoes.

* * *

The night Shiro saw Kuro for the first time appears to not have been the last time he’d see the odd ghost of himself.

He materialises in the oddest of places, from Shiro noticing him stood clearly against the back wall of a room, to catching glimpses of him wandering the halls out of the corner of his eye.

Kuro never speaks to him during his sporadic appearances, and no one else on the team shows any sign of noticing him, either.

Sometimes Shiro will see him, blink, and he’ll be gone.

He just comes and goes, like the ghost he seems to be.

It’s a couple weeks later when Shiro comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around himself, that he stops short at the sight of who can only be Kuro sitting on the edge of his bed, and Shiro sighs.

“I’m too tired for your mind tricks today, okay? So if you could just-“

Kuro looks up at him, face smeared in blood, and Shiro pauses, moving to Kuro’s front and dropping into a crouch.

“What- Kuro, what happened?” He asks, noting the gore that was once Kuro’s right arm, his left hand shaking at his side, gash cutting across the middle of his face, over his nose, and the man just scoffs, wincing as he does so.

“You know what happened…” He murmurs, voice hoarse, eyes red rimmed and wet, the usual glow of them dulled, and his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat and what’s more than likely blood. “I’m your worst memories and fears incarnate, remember?”

Shiro does, now, remembers the first night Kuro appeared, with black hair and both arms, wearing the remnants of his space uniform, the exact image of himself straight after he and the Holt’s had been abducted by Zarkon’s fleet.

Every time Kuro had appeared from then on, his outfit would subtly change, until it was the garbs he’d worn during imprisonment, his hair slowly flecking with white strands, scars appearing, and now the worst of what Shiro’s gone through thus far is right before his eyes, and it’s almost as if he’s reliving it all over again.

“I can help you- the ship has healing pods, we can-“ Shiro’s interrupted by a hand gripping his wrist as he makes to stand, Kuro staring up at him and shaking his head slowly.

“There’s nothing you can do.” He whispers, standing with Shiro, his hand trailing up Shiro’s arm, leaving blood in its wake. “There’s nothing I can do.” He continues, and Shiro goes to argue when his door suddenly hisses open, both him and Kuro’s heads whipping toward it, and Keith stands there, eyes wide.

“Shiro- I smelt blood, are you…” He pauses, and Shiro turns to him, hands splayed.

“I can explain-“ He says, at the same time as Keith says: “Shit, sorry- I should have knocked-“

Shiro turns his head, noting that Kuro has disappeared, and the blood on his arm is gone, and he drops his hands with a heavy exhale.

“It’s okay, Keith…” He murmurs, looking up at the boy who’s still stood there, fidgeting slightly, and he furrows his brows somewhat, what Keith had said just before registering. “You…smelt, blood?” He asks, and Keith looks up at him, lips parted.

“Yeah…it was, pretty strong, and coming from through here, so I wanted to check if you were okay.”

Shiro sits heavily on the edge of his bed, and Keith tentatively walks toward him.

“So, are you? Okay?” Keith asks, taking a seat near Shiro, and the man nods, forcing a slight smile as he looks up at Keith.

“I’m fine. Tired, a bit stressed, nothing out of the ordinary.” It’s mostly true, and Keith seems to buy enough of it, his lips pursed slightly, but his expression otherwise neutral.

“Anything I could do to help?” He asks, sitting down with Shiro and lowering his hand to the space on the mattress between them, the gesture subtle, an offering, and Shiro smiles a little easier, leaning a little toward Keith.

“Yeah,” He murmurs, his own hand lowering to the towel around his hips, tugging gently at where it’s tucked toward the side. “There’s a couple things you could help me out with.”

Keith smiles in turn, given the permission needed to close the distance between him and Shiro, kissing him softly, pushing him back against the mattress, tugging off his shirt as Shiro lets the towel fall loose.

* * *

Everyone's sprawled across the castle ship couches in multiple states of tiredness and soreness, helmets chucked aside this way and that after a tough battle that took its toll on all of them.

Pidge is holding her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples, and Shiro half crouches beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You doing okay there, Katie?” He asks, voice low, and she groans softly, face pinched.

“Took a hit that really shook me.” She mutters, managing to look up at Shiro, trying to smile, but it quickly falls with a wince. “I think I might need a few minutes in the healing pod.” She continues, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes.

“Of course, come on. I think we all need some time in the pods.” Shiro suggests, raising his voice enough for the room to hear, everyone turning their tired attention Shiro’s way, slowly making to get up.

Coran helps with setting up the healing pods for everyone, Shiro standing back and watching, releasing a heavy breath when Keith sidles up beside him.

“You took the brunt of at least a quarter of that fleet today, Keith. You should spend some time in one of the pods.” Shiro turns his head to Keith to say, but the red paladin merely shrugs a shoulder, stance tense.

“I’m okay. Just a little bruised. It’s nothing I’m not used to, I’ve had far worse.” Keith replies after a short while, arms folded across his chest, falling silent as the methodical beeps from the healing pods sound before they seal, Pidge, Lance and Hunk’s eyes closing as the healing process begins.

“It doesn’t hurt to spend ten minutes in one.” Shiro tries, watching their vitals pop up on the glass-like surface, small yellow circles surrounding areas where they’ve got the most injuries.

“Says you.” Keith counters, shaking his head. “You were pinned under a ship, knocked around like a plaything for a while, I couldn’t get to you.” Keith exhales heavily, looking down. “You’re always one to put yourself on the frontlines, fight more than any of us are capable.” Shiro glances Keith’s way, noting the way he worries at his lip, bringing blood to the surface. “You need to rest. You need to heal too, Shiro.” Keith finally says, looking back up, unfolding his arms and turning to face Shiro proper, Shiro shifting to do the same.

“I do rest. But I need to help you guys, first. Your safety, your health, is always going to be my first priority. Then it’s fighting against the Galran Empire, saving the universe.”

“Then where do you lie?” Keith asks, hands splayed. “You’re too selfless for your own good, Shiro. It’s going to get you killed one of these days-“

“I’d rather die saving you than watching anyone else suffer because I couldn’t do enough.” Shiro interrupts, his voice raising, and Keith’s mouth snaps shut, his jaw clenching. “I’m already on a ticking clock as it is, Keith. I need to know I’ve done as much as I possibly could to help you and the others in the long run before I inevitably lose the strength I have to do so anymore.” His voice lowers again, and he lifts a hand to place on Keith’s shoulder.

“You’re all such amazing fighters, you’re all so brave and strong and I need you all to stay that way.” At Keith’s terse silence, Shiro sighs. “We’re not just fighting for our lives in this war, Keith. There’s no time to concentrate on myself when there’s an entire universe out there waiting to be saved.”

“You need to take care of yourself, too.” Keith whispers, his voice cracking, and Shiro stoops low enough to press his and Keith’s foreheads together, exhaling shakily.

“I’ll take care of myself…” Shiro whispers, Keith’s hands lifting to squeeze his biceps. “When all is said and done, and we can rest easy, and I can guarantee you and the others will be okay…I’ll take a vacation.”

Shiro tries to smile, but it quickly falls flat, and he pulls Keith into a hug when he feels Keith’s hands shake ever so slightly.

“Let me take care of you, then…” Keith says, voice so quiet that Shiro would have had to strain to hear it had Keith not turned to talk directly in his ear. “Please…”

Shiro swallows, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

* * *

The more small, albeit no less difficult, battles the team are required to fight together, the closer they become as a group of friends.

As an eclectic family of sorts.

Shiro smiles fondly at the sight of Coran laying a blanket over a sleeping pile of paladins, Lance and Pidge draped over Hunk on one of the larger couches, tuckered out while watching an Altean equivalent of a soap opera.

Coran offers Shiro a blanket, too, to share with Keith, who’s half slumped against him, and he takes it with a whispered thanks.

They’re nowhere near perfect as far as soldiers or protectors of the universe go, but everyday Shiro sees the improvement of their coordination and their teamwork, and he couldn’t be more proud of how far they’ve come, both figuratively and literally.

Shiro’s pulled back to the present from his thoughts when someone sits beside him on the couch; someone who looks almost like him save for the golden glow of their eyes.

“Shiro…” Kuro whispers, dropping his head slightly, almost smiling when he looks at Keith. His hand lifts, either to touch Keith or do something else Shiro’s not entirely sure, but he stops short, dropping his hand and looking up to meet Shiro’s eye.

“I’m sorry about what happened the other night. I didn’t know where else to go. There was…no where else, to go.” Kuro’s whispering, but Shiro’s too afraid to talk, in fear of waking anyone up only for them to find him talking to himself.

That phrase being literal regardless of them being able to see Kuro or not.

Instead he nods slowly, and Kuro gives a tiny nod in turn, his lip twitching upward in some semblance of a smile, though ruthful.

“I gotta go…I feel that pull, that I’ve learnt is the signal for me to skedaddle so…” He reaches up enough to touch Shiro’s cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

With that, Kuro stands from the couch, walking towards the doorway, but fading just before he reaches it.

Shiro exhales heavily, releasing the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and almost flinching when Keith shifts against him, blinking his eyes open slowly.

“Y’okay?” He asks, voice rough with sleep, words slurred somewhat.

“I’m okay,” Shiro answers, rubbing a hand up and down Keith’s back, his eyes fluttering at the motion. “Just got lost in my head for a moment, there.”

Keith hums, either in agreement or understanding, curling his arm over Shiro’s middle before seemingly thinking better of himself, pulling back and clearing his throat, sitting up.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you.” It’s mumbled, and Shiro smiles softly.

“I’ll let it slide.”

Keith huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should probably fall asleep on my bed.” He says, making to stand, but Shiro gently grabs his wrist, stopping him short.

“Y’know, it’s still early…” Shiro starts, thumb rubbing a small circle on Keith’s hand. “If you’re not too tired, we could always go to my room and hang out.” He continues, shoulder raising in a half shrug.

Keith seems to ponder that for a second, glancing toward where the others are sleeping, before looking to Shiro with a slight smirk and nod.

“I’m not too tired. Let’s hang out.”

Keith twists his hand to take Shiro’s, tugging him up and letting their hands seperate in order to walk out of the room casually, towards their quarters.

* * *

“Fuck, yes- _yes-_“ Shiro gasps, eyes squeezed shut as he bounces on Keith’s lap, feeling that sweet sting of Keith’s nails as they dig into his hip, his upper thigh, using that almost inhuman strength of his to fuck Shiro on his cock, the slap of slick skin on skin echoing around them.

Whenever they do this, Keith is quieter, more reserved, the only sounds he makes are short groans every now and then, but he mainly pants, shows he’s feeling good in the way he directs Shiro with his grip, alone. He’ll sometimes talk, more so during foreplay, but when he gets close, he’ll murmur how good Shiro feels, how beautiful he is, encouragement that has them both coming almost at the same time.

Right now Keith is practically silent, lips parted as he breathes heavily, smoothing one hand up Shiro’s side, cupping his pec and rubbing a thumb over his nipple.

That’s something Shiro’s learnt over the time he’s known Keith, even before they started doing this, is that he’s most definitely a chest man. He loves to stare at and touch Shiro’s chest, even asked if he could fuck his tits one night after the team had wound down with a particularly large amount of nunvil.

Shiro had preemptively agreed, thus starting this now semi-often endeavour him and Keith take part in.

_“No strings attached…”_ Keith had whispered after that first night, lips brushing the still sweat damp skin of Shiro’s neck. _“Don’t let emotions get in the way…”_

He must have thought Shiro was asleep when he’d said that, or was partially asleep, himself. It’s a difficult yet simple situation they’ve put themselves in; trusting one another to have casual sex when they need to take the edge off, but also, especially in Keith’s case, hiding what they truly wish for out of this relationship.

But here they are now, months after that first time, making it work, fucking one another on the down low, but still calling themselves best friends.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Keith says, voice low, and Shiro moans in turn, the opposite of Keith in the sense that he’s almost always vocal during sex. “Feel so good, Shiro.” He continues, and Shiro opens his eyes, looking at Keith’s face then up slightly, intaking a sharp breath when he sees Kuro standing against the far wall, staring at them, biting his lip.

He smirks, licking his lips once he meets Shiro’s eye, and Shiro stutters in his pace somewhat, Keith’s fingers tightening on his hips.

“Shiro, what’s-“ He makes to turn his head, and Shiro drops down on his lap, hard, forcing a pleasured sound from them both at the same time, and he stares, wide eyed at Keith. “What’s wrong?” Keith asks, through a strained breath. “You stopped for a second, there.”

“I had a pain,” Shiro lies, sitting on Keith’s lap, fingers flexing on his shoulders. “It’s passed, now. Sorry.”

“No,” Keith sits up a little straighter, hands soothingly stroking down his sides, rubbing into the muscle of Shiro’s thighs. “Don’t apologise. Do you want to switch positions?” He asks, and Shiro shivers atop him, both at the sensation of Keith’s fingers massaging him, and the way the sweat on his skin cools with his lack of movement.

“I’m okay, it’s okay.” Shiro murmurs, subtly lifting his gaze to where Kuro still stands back, watching intently, at the same time as he slowly starts up again, lifting his hips and dropping back down, grinding deep. “I’m close…”

Keith groans at the same time as Kuro grins, smoothing a hand down over his own chest and stomach, fingertips inching beneath his waistband, eyes locked on Shiro, all the while.

Shiro shouldn’t like the sight of someone who looks almost exactly like himself so much, but he can’t help the twinge he feels behind his navel, the twitch of his own cock once Kuro reveals his own.

He forces his gaze back onto Keith, who’s got his eyes mostly closed, leaning forward to mouth at the base of Shiro’s throat, and it gives him no choice but to look back up at Kuro, watch the technique of his hand around his length while Keith fucks him slow and deep.

The head of Keith’s cock grazes over Shiro’s prostate, and he gasps shakily, biting his lip on a moan, and Keith pulls back enough to murmur a low “let me hear you,” before he licks a slick stripe up the side of Shiro’s neck, breath cooling the saliva and making Shiro shiver, moaning unabashed and feeling Keith’s approving growl deep in his chest.

He tries to focus on Keith, alone; his touch, his lust, the way his cock fills him seemingly just right, but his gaze keeps lifting to Kuro, and every time it does, the man smirks at him anew, tilting his head and letting his lips part with the way he fucks up into his own fist, and Shiro watches how he does it.

There’s a basic technique to it, to wrapping your hand around your own cock that everyone can grasp the concept of pretty simply, but there are certain aspects of pleasuring oneself that make it solely your own experience, things that seperate you from the rest, and Shiro has those tricks, and as he watches Kuro, he realises he has the exact same ones.

He really is himself.

And Shiro’s really getting off to watching himself jerk off while Keith is balls deep inside him.

What does that say about himself?

_It says a lot,_ a voice seemingly at the forefront of Shiro’s mind tells him, Kuro’s lips shaping the words as he hears them inside his head. _Some people would call it narcissism,_ he continues, slowly trailing a finger down the underside of his cock until it twitches, hips bucking with the motion. _I call it admiring your strengths, your assets…_

_I’m not a narcissist,_ Shiro argues, in his head, and Kuro cocks his head, purses his lips.

_I never said you were,_ he counters, and Shiro comes back to himself, feels Keith gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, nails almost cutting skin as he fucks up into Shiro hard and fast, panting raggedly and groaning low.

Shiro realises he’s moaning, eyes fluttering where he’s staring at Kuro, and he forces his gaze down, tilting his head to try meet Keith’s eye, but his face is buried in the crook of Shiro’s neck, lips parted against his sweat and saliva slick skin.

There’s a low rumbling from Keith that Shiro feels against his chest, and before he knows it, his world is tilting on its axis and he’s falling back, hitting the mattress and clinging to Keith as he fucks into him harder than he has all night, practically growling beside Shiro’s ear.

The position is almost too intimate, Keith’s arms wrapped securely around Shiro, holding him impossibly close, fucking into him the way Shiro _needs_ to be fucked, his eyes rolling back when Keith’s cock presses against all the right places with every stroke, with every shift of his hips against Shiro’s ass.

_“Fuck_, Takashi-“ Keith says, voice low. “Show me how good you feel,”

It’s heaven, and it’s torture all in one and Shiro can’t help it when he comes between them suddenly, moaning unabashed and clenching around Keith’s throbbing cock.

The boy in question groans out a curse, manages few more than a half a dozen thrusts before he’s stilling as deep as he can reach, fingers gripping bruises into Shiro’s skin, painting him tender with reds and purples while he locks their lips.

Shiro feels the way Keith’s orgasm wracks through the both of them, tremors and shakes slowly ebbing the longer they kiss, entirely too heartfelt and soft, Shiro’s eyes closing as he opens up for Keith’s tongue, pressed back into the mattress with Keith atop him, holding him in a way that would suggest he doesn’t want to ever let go.

Letting himself bask in the afterglow of it all, Shiro’s breathing slowly returns to a regular pace, hands tracing their way down Keith’s back, his left hand groping idly at Keith’s ass, making him exhale shakily into the next kiss.

“Fuck, Shiro…” He whispers, and Shiro hums in turn, eyes opening a slither when Keith pulls back, looking down at him and cupping a hand to Shiro’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. “You feeling okay?” He asks after a minute, and it takes a second for Shiro to come back to reality, takes even longer to formulate a legible response.

“I’m fine,” He manages, swallowing, his hands lifting from Keith’s lower back to his shoulders, the side of his neck. “I’m good, that was…that was good.”

Keith smiles down at him, a soft, breathless thing that has Shiro’s next inhale catching, and Keith dips down to kiss him once more, a slow, gentle press of lips against his before it’s gone, Keith pulling back almost entirely, hands trailing their way over Shiro’s body as he does so.

“I’ll get a towel,” Keith says, getting up and leaving Shiro to head to the bathroom, disappearing through the door.

Lifting up enough to rest on his elbows, Shiro looks toward the back wall, where Kuro had stood not ten minutes prior, to find the space vacant, devoid of any lookalikes or beings of any kind, and Shiro bites his lip, glancing around the room, as if Kuro could have simply moved to a different spot, and still be watching him with those golden, emotion filled eyes of his.

But to no avail.

Kuro is nowhere to be seen.

Shiro shivers, glancing down at his naked form, streaks of cum cooling on his skin, drying in places, and he grimaces slightly, feeling as what’s no doubt Keith’s release makes it sticky below, dripping onto the sheets that were near due for a change, regardless.

Keith comes out of the bathroom with a couple small towels in hand, and Shiro takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful he is, always has been, but there’s something more to him after they’ve had a night like this; his skin still flushed slightly, hair tousled in a way that doesn’t look messy, but more so artistically made to look as such, fringe pushed almost entirely back and to the side, revealing his whole face.

He comes to sit on the mattress beside Shiro, reaching out first with the warm, damp towel to clean off the cum on Shiro’s torso.

Shiro’s learnt over the course of the more physical side of their relationship, that Keith likes taking care of him. Likes taking his time with foreplay, getting them both riled up and then slowing down considerably for the main event, making it last. Keith also loves to clean him up, afterward. Would watch almost longingly the first couple times when Shiro would hastily wipe himself down and call it a night.

Shiro had taken notice, had lied back the next time and looked to Keith expectantly, watched as he smiled softly and took the cloth to Shiro’s skin, wiping him down with such care, made sure he was clean and comfortable before leaving Shiro to rest for the night.

He does so, now, leaning over Shiro and dragging the cloth of the towel over him, cleaning up the mess they collectively made, ensuring he hasn’t a trace of anything left before handing Shiro a pair of underwear, pulling on his own.

“Thanks for tonight,” Keith says once he’s dressed, fixing his hair back into its usual style without the use of a mirror, a couple strands toward the back of his head sticking upward. “I had fun.”

“Yeah,” Shiro reaches for Keith, smoothing his hair down some, hand dropping to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Me too.”

Keith smiles softly, leaning forward slightly, but he hesitates, so Shiro pulls him into a hug, kissing the side of his head.

As he goes to pull back, Keith quickly tilts his head and kisses him, fingers touching Shiro’s cheek before he draws back, smiling a little ruthfully.

“Night Shiro, see you tomorrow.” He says, getting up, grabbing his belt from where he had chucked it aside earlier, and leaves the room.

Shiro sighs, dragging a hand down his face and shifting back to lie down, the bare skin of his back touching against the fresh, cool sheets Keith helped him put on the bed.

Kuro doesn’t seem to be coming back again tonight, so Shiro rolls over, tugging the covers over himself, and falls into a choppy, partial slumber.

* * *

_“This is Ulaz, he helped me escape when I was held captive.”_

Shiro stares determinedly at the highlighted line of the painstaking path that will supposedly take them to the hidden base of the infamous Blade of Mamora, Keith piloting Red with immaculate precision.

_“I’m sorry we doubted Ulaz, Shiro…”_ Keith had murmured when they had a few moments alone. He’d kept a respectful distance, then. _“He saved all our lives.”_

There’s a palpable tension in the lion as they fly, and Shiro glances down at Keith, who looks straight ahead, concentrated.

But there’s something else there Shiro can’t quite place.

“Keith, is everything okay?” He asks, but Keith just presses forward.

“I’m fine.” He answers after a second, and Shiro can’t help but notice the hint of a break in his voice.

“You kind of blew up at everybody back there.” Shiro looks forward again before continuing. “You’ll have to control your emotions if you’re going to lead this group some day.”  
There’s a silent pause, a slight huff from Keith. “Lead the group?” He says, slightly disbelieving.

“When we were stranded I told you, if anything ever happens to me…” Shiro looks to Keith once more. “I want you to lead Voltron.”

It’s a lot for the already intense moment, to bring up, but Shiro selfishly needs the distraction, unsure of what they’re going to face once they reach the Mamora base.

“I thought you were just delirious with pain.” Keith says, a little strained. “W-why would you make me the leader?” He then asks, looking to Shiro for what must be the first time since they got into Red.

“Because I know what you’re capable of.” Shiro says without missing a beat, but his brows raise slightly. _“If,_ you can learn some self discipline.”

Keith looks agitated, then, fingers flexing on the controls.

“Why are we even talking about this? Nothing is going to happen to you.” Keith turns his gaze back to the front, jaw set.

“It’s just in case,” Shiro assures, placing a hand he hopes comes across as comforting on Keith’s shoulder.

They manage to arrive at the base with little no to scuffles, black holes and giant stars nothing in the face of Keith’s piloting skill.

It’s while they’re there, at the base, that Shiro discovers Keith has a dagger engraved with the symbol of the Blade of Mamora, and he has to watch helplessly as Keith fights through trial after excruciating trial to prove that the blade does in fact, belong to him.

Keith’s never been one to give up a fight, too stubborn, too determined, and Shiro has to resist the urge to go and help him, hating the sight of Keith being punched and kicked around like he’s nothing.

It’s not a fair fight; as the further Keith progresses, the more Blades appear to face him.

He figures out a loophole, dropping through a trapdoor before it closes, and it seems just like that, he’s managed to stop the fighting side of the trials.

But not before getting beat up enough to stagger, holding onto his wounded shoulder.

There’s a hologram of sorts, showing Shiro speaking to Keith, except it isn’t Shiro, and he has the sudden fear that this is exactly like Kuro all over again, until Kolivan, the apparent leader of the Blades, explains the properties of the fight suit Keith wore, and how seeing this shows that Keith desperately wants to see Shiro at this very moment.

It’s almost dizzying, watching Keith believe that this version of him is real, despite the inconsiderate way he handles and speaks to Keith.

_“Shiro…you’re like a brother to me. But I have to do this.”_ He’s so determined to find out who he is, the story of his past, and all Shiro can do is stand and watch while this…virtual mindscape version of himself berates Keith for it.

_“No, you don’t. So just give them the knife.”_ He practically shouts, glaring, and it takes Shiro aback.

He’d never speak to Keith so harshly.

_“I can’t do that.”_ It’s clearly paining Keith to argue, as it pains Shiro to watch them argue.

_“Just give up the knife, Keith!”_ The mindscape Shiro does shout, now, stance tense and angry. _“You’re only thinking of yourself, as usual!”_

There’s a flash of hurt, Keith’s eyes wide, before he just looks defeated, slumping, in pain, both emotional and physical.

He blinks, then looks determined all over again.

_“I’ve made my choice.”_ He says, and the hologram-esque Shiro glares.

_“Then you’ve chosen to be alone.”_ He says, before turning and walking away.

Turning his back on Keith.

And Keith looks down at the blade still in his hand, up to Shiro’s retreating back, and a look of anguish morphs his expression.

_“Shiro- wait!”_ He cries out, running after him, but then the hologram fades, and Keith collapses.

“You need to get him out of there, you’re messing with his mind!” Shiro turns to face Kolivan, but the Blade leader merely watches as Keith lies on the cold floor, twitching in pain and whatever is happening inside his head right now, something Shiro is unable to see. “You’re going to kill him!”

“Knowledge or death, Shiro.” The Galran cooly answers, and Shiro seethes.

“I’m calling this off.” He declares, turning and walking toward the doorway, but he’s quickly stopped when several Blades members block his way.

Seemingly thinking the same as Shiro, it’s then that the Red Lion begins to attack the base, sensing Keith’s danger just as Shiro had feared.

He manages to manoeuvre around the Galrans and find his way to Keith just as he wakes, helping him up and asking if he’s okay, multiple Blades running into the room, too.

Keith’s disoriented, the lion still trying to break through the base.

“Call off your beast!” Someone shouts, but Shiro yells over them.

“Move out of the way, we’re leaving!”

“You’re not leaving with that blade.” Kolivan insists. “It does not belong to you, you’ve _failed_ to awaken it.”

“What does that _mean!?”_ Keith cries out, just as one of the Blades members unsheathes their sword.

“Give up the blade!” He says, before charging toward them, and Shiro quickly charges forward, too, his hand lighting up and colliding with a metallic clang with the sword.

“Wait!” Keith shouts. “Just take the knife.” He says, holding it out.

Shiro looks toward him, lowering his hand at the same time as the Galran lowers his sword, looking at Keith, too.

“It doesn’t matter where I come from. I know who I am.” Keith says. “We all need to work together to defeat Zarkon. And if that means I give up this knife, fine.” His stoic expression softens, holding out the knife a little further. “Take it.” He says.

And then the dagger in his hands lights up and extends into a sword.

Shiro watches in awe, barely processing when Kolivan says that the only way this is possible is if Galra blood runs through Keith’s veins.

* * *

Shiro doesn’t miss the way Keith limps somewhat on their way to the Red Lion with Kolivan to fly back to the castle.

Nor does he miss the blood staining the bodysuit of his armour, the bruises forming on his face.

They introduce Kolivan to the team, Keith standing back quietly all the while as Kolivan informs everyone of the shift in their plans; that they must act immediately in their fight if they want a winning chance.

Keith wanders off after standing by for a while, when no one is looking, but Shiro follows, trails after Keith as he goes to his quarters, the boy pausing in the open doorway, panting slightly.

“I might…need a hand dressing a wound or two.” Keith murmurs, back to Shiro.

“You should really go into a healing pod for a while.” Shiro tries, but Keith turns his head, and there are tears trickling down his face.

“Please…” He whispers, broken, and Shiro nods, following Keith into his room, the door sliding shut behind them with a finalising mechanical click.

* * *

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dip in the mattress, and Shiro barely spares Kuro a glance, fingers gently brushing the hair from Keith’s face.

“I’m fine. Worried about Keith…” Shiro whispers, keeping his hands to himself when Keith twitches slightly, letting out a small, pained sound.

“At least he’s getting some sleep.” Kuro murmurs, and Shiro nods, barely registering the arm that wraps around his waist. “You should rest, too.” He continues, suddenly close enough to speak next to Shiro’s ear.

“I should shower.” Shiro says, turning his head slightly to meet the glow of Kuro’s eyes. “I helped Keith clean up earlier, but it doesn’t really count.”

Kuro shakes his head, the corner of his lip twitching upward somewhat. “Sitting just inside the shower while clothed doesn’t count, no.” He says, and it earns a small huff from Shiro, before he swallows thickly.

“Okay…” Shiro concedes, leaning down and gently kissing Keith’s temple, reaching over to where his helmet sits, and flicks on a private channel to his own, before he slowly stands. “But I’m coming back to sleep over there.” Shiro then says, pointing to a chair in the corner of the room, and Kuro nods.

“I didn’t expect you to sleep anywhere else.” He replies, gesturing toward the door.

Shiro’s grateful that his room is closest to Keith’s as he puts his helmet on what is the Altean equivalent of a basin before stripping off his bodysuit, putting it in the compartment that cleans it and turning on the shower.

His mind drifts to a few hours earlier, Keith shaking and curling in on himself while Shiro helped clean blood and sweat from his skin.

_“I saw my dad-“_ Keith hiccups, gritting his teeth. _“He said my mum was going to be there, but- but everything was falling apart outside- I had to try save people I-“_ There was an aborted sob, and Shiro had carefully manoeuvred them until Keith was crying into his chest, shivering in his arms, and all Shiro could do was let him cry while he stared at the tiled wall, blinking back the wetness in his own eyes.

He comes back to the present when two hands gently turn him, flesh and metallic, to face Kuro.

He’s stripped, too, standing bare with still red scars, blinking water from his lashes as he pulls Shiro close, arms encircling him.

Shiro’s still, sucking in a sharp breath, but Kuro just slides his hand slowly up and down Shiro’s back, a comforting gesture.

“You’re allowed to cry.” He whispers, holding Shiro just a little tighter. “Today was overwhelming for you, too.”

Shiro squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

Kuro exhales heavily, pulling back somewhat, and Shiro slowly opens his eyes, meeting gold.

“We don’t have to be strong all the time. We’re allowed to break.”

“We’ve _been_ broken.” Shiro argues, hands trailing slowly over the wet skin of Kuro’s back, feeling out the muscles, the scars, there. “I just wanted to make sure no one else felt the pain we did, do.” He continues, and Kuro glances downward.

“I know…”

“Keith could have been killed, today…” It’s whispered, a horrified realisation, and Shiro’s not even sure if Kuro heard him as he stares at the far wall of the shower cubicle, saliva thick when he swallows. “And all I could do was helplessly watch.”

“He chose to fight those trials, you tried to talk him out of it-”

“I didn’t try hard enough, Kuro.” Shiro says, cutting Kuro off. “He’s in the next room, stitched up and bruised because he wanted to know where the only thing he has of his mother came from, but they wouldn’t tell him without a fight.” Kuro’s silent as Shiro speaks, the water of the shower being the only other sound. “They were willing to kill him, if it meant he didn’t leave without that blade. They were actively _trying_, to draw blood, to get him to hand it over, because they didn’t believe it was his.” There are tears trickling down Shiro’s face, mixing with the water of the shower, and if Kuro notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. “I…” Shiro sucks in a hissing breath, eyes closing as he turns his head. “I couldn’t do anything but watch my best friend fight an unfair fight, ready to get seriously hurt, to find the answers he needed.”

Kuro’s hands lower until they drop from Shiro’s person entirely, and before Shiro has the chance to open his eyes, he’s touching air, suddenly alone in the shower.

“Kuro?” He calls, quiet, but nothing answers.

It’s then that Shiro lets his back hit the wall, sliding down to the floor, and letting the tears that he didn’t know needed to fall, fall.

* * *

Keith lets Shiro activate a healing pod for him the following morning, on the notion that Shiro doesn’t tell anyone else he used it, despite Shiro telling him that no one would think less of him for needing to.

Having had waited too long after his injury to use the pod, it doesn’t rid of the scarring on Keith’s shoulder; a jagged slice from the top of his shoulders’ blade, up and over to his collarbone. It does, however, close the wounds and heal them and the bruising.

Shiro keeps Keith in the pod until his vitals show that everything is in order before letting him out.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” Shiro relays Kuro’s words to him the from night before. “Not even the toughest of them all could have come out of those trials unscathed.” He continues, watching Keith pull on his shirt.

“I don’t want the others knowing I’m…” Keith waves a vague hand, wincing. “You know.”

“Galra?” Shiro supplies, and Keith lowers his head. “Keith, there’s nothing wrong with you being Galra. Out of all the crazy things I’ve seen out here, this is the least weird.” He tries to lighten the mood, but Keith stares at the ground.

“How can you be so calm about this?” He asks, meek. “The Galra, everything they’ve done to you…they took your arm, Shiro. They- they made you fight, they tortured you, they- they…” He covers his eyes with a hand, but Shiro can see the way Keith grits his teeth, sucking in a hissing breath. “For all I know- my mum could have been one of those Galra.”

“Keith, no-“

“It’s possible!” Keith looks up abruptly, blinking quick. “She could have been the one to personally take your arm.”

“Then it’s also possible that I killed her in the arena.” Shiro says, and Keith shuts up. “We don’t know who she is to Zarkon, Keith. Your mum could be fighting by his side, or she could be fighting against him, like the Blade of Mamora _are.”_

Keith stubbornly keeps his gaze downward, and Shiro exhales heavily.

“Keith, it doesn’t matter if your mum is working for or against the Galra. The fact that she may or may not be doesn’t reflect how I see _you.”_ Shiro explains, and Keith tentatively lifts his gaze. “You’re fighting with us, with Voltron, with me. Some Galra may have taken my arm and made me fight to kill, but that wasn’t all of them. Like humans, there are bad, and good Galra. Hell, there were more than likely bad Alteans. All that matters is that you stay true to who you are, Keith.” He carefully wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “You’re Keith, my best friend, the Red Paladin of Voltron. Where you come from, whatever alien blood runs within you, won’t change that.”

“I know…” Keith whispers, brow furrowed. “I think.” He turns his head slightly, face inches from Shiro’s. “But I think a couple of the others might feel indifferent about it.”

* * *

Shiro can’t sleep.

He’s tossed and turned for the better part of three hours; had watched Keith drift off before making his way to his own quarters.

_“I’m not up for anything tonight…I’m sorry.”_ Keith had said, looking guilty, and Shiro had frowned.

_“I wasn’t expecting anything.”_ He had whispered, propping himself up on an elbow and looking down at Keith. _“I just thought you’d appreciate the company.”_

Keith had stared at the ceiling, head bobbing in a subtle nod.

_“Did you want me to leave?”_ Shiro had asked, and Keith’s eyes closed as he nodded again.

_“I’m sorry, I just-“_ Shiro had shushed him, smiling at him softly, reassuring.

_“You have a lot on your mind, I get it.”_ Shiro said, sitting up and turning until his feet touched the floor, looking over his shoulder. _“Let me know if you need anything, okay? I mean it.”_

Keith sat up, too, pulling Shiro into a soft hug, but it was obvious that physical contact wasn’t anything he desired in that moment, so Shiro had just pulled back, smiling again.

_“Get some sleep.”_

If only Shiro could follow his own orders, huffing a frustrated breath and rolling onto his stomach, a spare pillow shoved none too gracefully between his legs.

Rocking his hips lazily, Shiro sighs, eyes closed and fingers curling into the strewn sheets, his next breath a little shaky when the telltale heat in his lower abdomen flares, and his back arches with it, lip between his teeth.

“Alone tonight?” A voice says from somewhere behind him, but Shiro doesn’t flinch, instead dropping his head with a shuddering groan, and forcing himself to stop grinding in order to look over his shoulder at Kuro. “Don’t stop on my account.” He continues, a slight smirk on his face.

“Is this going to become a regular thing?” Shiro asks, feeling his dick as it twitches in the confines of his boxers, and he has to resist the urge to rut.

Kuro just huffs a low laugh, stepping around the bed until he’s in front of Shiro, placing a knee on the mattress, almost in question, and Shiro swallows, lifting up onto his hands and knees and reaching for the front of Kuro’s shirt, tugging him closer.

The smirk only grows wider, though Shiro can barely tell with their mouths mere centimetres apart.

He’s panting softly, biting his lip to suppress the sound that threatens to come out when Kuro’s hand lowers to cup the bulge of his half hard cock through the material of his underwear.

“Want me to lend a hand?” Kuro asks, voice low and rough, and Shiro can’t resist it when he bucks against his palm, eyes fluttering.

“Please,” He manages, just before Kuro’s inching his fingers beneath his waistband.

* * *

Never did Shiro think he’d know what it was like to suck his own cock; knelt before a man almost identical to himself, their fingers in his hair while his jaw hangs slack, the heady flesh of Kuro’s dick dragging heavy along his tongue.

Shiro glances up with wet eyes, meeting the glowing gold of Kuro’s own as he stares down at him, mouth open with panted breaths, pulling upward into a breathless smile.

“You’re good at this,” Kuro says, groans, really, and Shiro’s eyes flutter. “Y’get on your knees often?”

Shiro pulls back, noticing the dull ache of his jaw only now that his mouth is empty, wrapping his hand around Kuro and stroking slow but firm.

“After my ex and I broke it off, there was a short period of me doing not much more than this, so.” Shiro shrugs a lone shoulder. “But you already knew that.”

“Not necessarily,” Kuro mutters, fingers easing their grip in Shiro’s hair, his hand shifting to cup the side of his face. “I don’t know that much from before being captured.”

Silent, and deciding he’s done delving into bad memories, Shiro leans forward and takes Kuro into his mouth again, cutting off whatever he was about to say next as he groans, fingers finding their way back into Shiro’s hair.

The last few days, if Shiro’s not with the team, and he’s not with Keith, he’s with Kuro.

It’s not always like this; sexual, but Shiro would be lying if he didn’t admit that it mostly was.

He shouldn’t feel guilty about it, the intrusive thoughts of what Keith would feel if he knew what was going on almost always at the forefront of his mind when he does this, trying to tell himself that Kuro isn’t even _real_, not really.

“I resent that," Kuro manages with a small huff of a laugh, hips rocking. “Just because the others can’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not real.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, pulling back with a shaky breath, wiping his mouth with little finesse and meeting Kuro’s eye.

“Get out of my head.” He says, the words not holding much venom behind them, especially with the way his voice cracks slightly, hoarse from having his mouth and throat practically full for the last several minutes. “I’m trying to justify my doing this.” He continues, and Kuro just cocks his head with a sly smirk.

“How’s that going for you?” He asks, fingers idly trailing down the side of Shiro’s neck, from the crook of his shoulder to his chest. “You’re not being disloyal to anyone by being with me.” Kuro’s voice lowers, softens, and his expression does something similar. “You’re a good man, Shiro. You’d never stoop so low.”

“It feels like that’s what I’m doing, though…” Shiro murmurs despite himself, but Kuro lifts his head with a finger beneath his chin.

“You’re only human, you want to get off.” Kuro says, thumb pressing against Shiro’s lip. “I’m here for that, if nothing else. Being with me is just advance masturbation.” Kuro goes on to say, and Shiro can’t help the laugh that emits from him at that, shaking his head.

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Kuro smiles a little ruthfully, lifting his shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I guess it is…but we’re not gonna get into that right now, okay?” At Shiro’s nod, Kuro nods in turn, seemingly satisfied, before pulling Shiro close. “Is the mood ruined?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper, and it has Shiro exhaling shakily, gaze dropping to the way one of Kuro’s pointed canines dig into the plush flesh of his lower lip.

“No.”

Kuro smirks anew, hesitating only a moment before kissing Shiro softly, eyes closing as he does so.

It’s fleeting, but it’s enough for Shiro to push him back, get into his lap and wrap a hand around the both of their cocks.

Hands a grounding weight on his hips, Shiro rocks atop Kuro’s thighs, panting shallowly and watching Kuro’s facial expressions morph gradually with pleasure.

Is this what he looks like?

Sans the golden eyes and pointed teeth, is this what Keith sees?

Kuro bites at his lips with a suppressed groan, eyes blinking slowly open to look Shiro up and down.

“Do you think I look good?” Kuro asks, lip pulling upward, and Shiro stutters in his pace somewhat, taken aback.

This feels like a trick question.

He chances a small nod, and Kuro’s smile widens.

He doesn’t say anything to follow up that answer, but Shiro doesn’t mind too much when Kuro flips them over, situated between Shiro’s thighs and reaching low, watching Shiro’s face.

“Can I touch you here?” He asks, metal fingers prodding idly at Shiro’s taint, hinting at touching lower still. "I wanna make it good for you, baby."

Shiro can't help the shaky gasp he lets out at both sensation of Kuro's actions and the nickname given, and he nods, a stilted bob of his head, but permission nonetheless for Kuro to do as he pleases.

The man in question smirks, a subtle tug of his lip just before his fingers slip down further, rubbing at where Shiro is most sensitive. His fingers feel slick, all of a sudden, and Shiro doesn't remember seeing him grab the lube he’d halfheartedly thrown aside earlier, but he doesn't have much time to dwell on the fact before one of those slick fingers are slipping into him.

Kuro’s slow about it, slower than Shiro has the patience for right now, writhing beneath him with breathy moans and pleas that are for the most part ignored as Kuro curls his thrusting fingers.

“Fuck, who knew a big guy like you would be so good at taking it,” Kuro says after a short while, smiling when Shiro bites his lip almost bloody to stop the moans threatening to spill with every inward thrust of Kuro’s hand. “You’re trying so hard not to be loud, it’s so _hot.”_

He punctuates the statement with a particularly hard press of his hand, fingertips against his prostate in a way that have Shiro gripping the sheets hard enough to tear, mouth falling open with an unabashed moan, hips rocking against him, trying to draw Kuro deeper.

“Please, _please-_ fuck, Kuro-“ Shiro tilts his head back, unable to control the sounds anymore, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels himself growing closer to orgasm.

“Please what, baby?” Kuro asks, and Shiro can practically see the grin on his face, and he lets out a sound akin to a sob, clenching around the fingers fucking into him with their punishing pace.

“Fuck me- fuck, please-“ Shiro gasps when the fingers are suddenly pulled out, and he looks down, thighs trembling when Kuro spreads them apart further, settling close between them and lining himself up to Shiro’s slick entrance.

He pauses, meeting Shiro’s eye, and Shiro nods, thinking Kuro’s asking permission, but the man leans down, arms wrapping around Shiro and lifting him into his lap, giving Shiro no choice but to hold on to Kuro’s shoulders, face to face with the man who looks almost exactly like himself, but is so different.

Shiro inhales sharply when he feels Kuro press in, barely having a second to process the fact that they’re _doing this,_ when suddenly there are lips on his, locking seamlessly and feeling so _right._

Shiro slumps, trusting Kuro to hold him, take care of him, and he sinks lower onto Kuro’s girth, kissing slow and heady, heads tilting in a mirror of the other as they rock against one another, already in sync as if they’ve being doing this all their lives.

“Y’feel so good…” Kuro murmurs against Shiro, lips parting to suck in a sharp breath, Shiro’s tongue curling around his as he does so, moaning in agreement.

With hands holding onto his hips and thighs firmly, Kuro uses his strength to lift Shiro up and down, Shiro’s knees braced on the bed being used as leverage to ride, gaining speed and chasing his climax.

It comes almost too fast, Shiro moaning unabashed into the crook of Kuro’s neck as he paints their torsos sticky with his release, clenching around Kuro and moving with jerking, aborted thrusts against him, Kuro lying him back and taking over once more.

Shiro practically blacks out, basking in the pleasured afterglow and letting Kuro use him to chase his own end, feeling the man still as deep as he can reach, kissing Shiro’s neck messily, panting against his damp skin.

“Fuck…” He groans after a long while, once his breathing slows some, and Shiro can only hum meekly in response, hands sliding down Kuro’s back.

Kuro lifts his head slowly, meeting Shiro’s eye and half sitting up, Shiro’s gaze dropping to the way his cum strings between them. He knows for a fact it’ll be disgusting in a minute, but for now, Shiro revels in the sight, brings a hand to Kuro’s chest and runs a finger through the mess, smearing it and making Kuro chuckle low.

“Y’like marking me up?” He asks, partly states, but Shiro nods, regardless, stare stuck on the way his cum just about shines against their skin.

It slowly dawns on him what just transpired, and he looks up at Kuro, the man already staring back at him.

“Do you regret it?” Kuro asks, voice low, unsure, and Shiro considers it; thinks about everything they just did and how he feels about it all.

He smiles, shaking his head.

“No.” He answers simply, lifting his cleaner hand to touch Kuro’s cheek, thumb brushing the swell of his cheekbone beneath his glowing eye. “Do you?” He then asks, but Kuro smiles, shaking his head in turn.

“I could never regret something as amazing as you.”

Shiro doesn’t hesitate when he leans up and kisses Kuro, then, drawing him impossibly close and rolling them over, kissing him until they fall asleep tangled in one another.

* * *

Part of the intricate plan everyone has devised requires the team to seperate to complete different tasks, collecting the necessary items and people needed to pull this off.

That means Shiro having to watch Keith get into the Yellow Lion with Hunk to go off and collect scultrite from what's supposedly a giant space monster, if Shiro's remembering what Coran had told them correctly.

They part with a hug that possibly lingers longer than necessary, Shiro whispering reassurances in Keith’s ear before they pull back.

Shiro’s given task is to go with Pidge and Lance to infiltrate a Galran facility to rescue a prisoner, a vital ally who, according to Kolivan, is the smartest creature alive.

Which, in hindsight, seemed simple enough.

Until Shiro actually meets Slav.

“You okay there?” Kuro had asked with no small amount of mirth as Shiro had trudged past him out of the Blue Lion after the others, his jaw still working and eye vaguely twitching.

“Shut up.” Comes Shiro’s reply, gruff, and Kuro merely grins, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he falls in step beside Shiro.

“He's some character, huh?”

Rubbing at his temples, Shiro groans. “That's putting it lightly.” He says, and Kuro pats his back in vague sympathy before he’s fading out of sight, but Shiro doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, swallowing and making his way to his own lion, preparing to assist the others.

* * *

The night is quiet; tense, as Shiro sits on his bed staring at the far wall, eyes vacant, mind crowded.

He can’t stop thinking about what’s about to happen; their battle against Zarkon.

Everything has been building up to this inevitable moment, the culmination of all that the Paladins of Voltron have been working toward, the fall of the Galran Empire under a villains’ rule.

Shiro doesn’t flinch when the door opens, but he blinks, turns his head to look at Keith who stands in the doorway.

He looks small over there, arms folded over his chest, lip between his teeth and expression unsure.

He meets Shiro’s eye, exhales shakily, and Shiro stands, inclining his head in a signal for Keith to come inside.

The door shuts with a mechanical whir and click at Keith’s back, and the room falls dark around them, but Shiro can see Keith slowly step his way, his eyes having long adjusted to the dimness, and Shiro vaguely wonders if impeccably eyesight, even in the dark, is a Galran trait of Keith’s.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, close enough to touch, his hand hovering just before Shiro’s chest. “Shiro, I’m…”

“I know,” Shiro whispers when Keith struggles to continue, taking ahold of his hand, drawing closer still and wrapping his arm around Keith, holding him. “Me too.”

Keith presses his face to the crook of Shiro’s neck, and it’s something Shiro hasn’t realised until recently, that Keith inhales whenever he does this, almost as if he’s basking in Shiro’s scent, yet another thing that Shiro is now wondering if it’s a _Keith_ thing, or a _Galra_ thing.

He doesn’t say anything about it, lets Keith comfort himself in Shiro’s embrace for the moment, until he pulls back enough to hold up the nondescript bottle Shiro hadn’t seen as he’d walked in.

“I got booze,” Keith starts, voice low. “Thought we could take the edge off, just a little.”

It makes Shiro smile softly, taking the bottle from Keith and cracking open the seal, uncapping it, the now familiar scent of Altean Nunvil permeating the space between them.

“Sounds good.” He says, already tipping the bottle back and taking a sip, grimacing slightly at the taste, handing the bottle back to Keith to sip as he wipes his mouth.

No sooner had Shiro lowered his hand, there were lips pressing tentatively to his, tasting of Nunvil and the familiarity of _Keith_ beneath that, the boy in question stepping close until their fronts are flush, his hands rising to hold onto the side of Shiro’s neck, his shoulder.

He pulls back after a few seconds, swallowing thick and staring up at Shiro with a sad expression.

“I missed you,” He whispers, thumb stroking Shiro’s jawline, breath shaky. “Everything’s been so hectic lately- my mind’s been overcrowded and _loud,_ and I…I missed you so much.”

“I’m here,” Shiro says, touching Keith’s hand, turning his face to kiss at his fingertips. “I’m with you.”

He steps backward, still holding onto Keith’s hand, and his friend steps with him, always following, until they reach the bed, Shiro sitting heavily on the edge of it, drawing Keith close with hands on his hips, until Keith is standing between his thighs, looking down at him.

“Did you want to…?” Shiro asks, tentative, knowing that Keith hasn’t been in the right mindset of late to do this.

_That’s why you’ve been fucking your clone, instead._ A voice says from somewhere toward the back of his mind. _You only care about getting dick, you don’t care whose._

Shiro swallows, shoving those intrusive thoughts away and concentrating on the man before him, who leans down and kisses him slow and heady, taking Shiro’s breath away with it.

“We might not get the chance to be like this again, after tomorrow.” Keith whispers against his lips, a terrifying statement that has Shiro gasping shakily, hands coming up to hold Keith’s shoulders.

“We’re gonna make it.” Shiro says, but the words taste like a lie on his tongue, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “We’re gonna win.”

Keith nods, but he looks as unsure as Shiro feels, pressing forward until Shiro falls back, shifting up the bed until they’re lying together in a tangle of limbs, Keith kissing him with such sudden vigour that Shiro can’t help but moan into it. His hands smooth their way down Keith’s back, only to tuck under the hem of his shirt and draw it upward, Keith breaking their kiss for a split second while he hazardously tugs the fabric up and off, throwing it aside into the shadows of Shiro’s room.

They kiss until they're panting with it, lips barely locking in favour of breathing against the other, holding each other close.  
Keith swallows thickly, slowing down considerably and pressing his forehead to Shiro’s with a shaking breath.“Whatever happens tomorrow,” Keith starts, voice low, “I just want you to know that I…" He pauses, biting his lip, and all Shiro can do is stare. “You mean everything, to me.” Keith whispers, meeting Shiro's eye. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.”

Shiro struggles to breathe his next breath, struck by the sudden emotion in Keith’s voice, his eyes, the two staring at one another for a long moment.

“You're not going to lose me.” Shiro belatedly responds, lifting a hand to cup Keith’s cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking beneath his eye. “I’m not leaving you.”

Keith leans into Shiro's palm, closing his eyes and biting his lip, giving a terse nod.

"Okay," He whispers, voice cracking, and Shiro’s heart does something similar. “Okay.” Keith says again, eyes opening, and Shiro swears they’re almost glowing, but doesn’t have the time to find out for sure before Keith leans down and kisses him.

Time seems to slow, but speed up all at once as Shiro and Keith roll around the bed, taking turns sipping from the bottle of nuvil until they’re tunnel visioned and pushing all thoughts of the ever looming battle to the back of their minds.

“Fuck, Keith…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

Keith kisses his way up the side of Shiro’s neck, breathing heavily by his ear.

“‘M not gonna stop, baby…” He whispers, hoarse, and Shiro shivers, his fingers curling in the sheets beneath him. “Want me to fuck you?” Keith asks, licking at the heat dampened skin of Shiro’s throat, sucking gently.

“Yeah, please…” Shiro drops his head back farther, baring more of his throat to Keith’s mouth. “Want it.”

Keith hums, and Shiro watches him as he sits up, kneeling between Shiro’s legs.

And that's when Shiro notices Kuro watching from the far wall, a sense of deja vu overcoming him.

He’s not doing anything, just watching, staring more at Keith’s back then Shiro, himself.

“Shiro?”

He’s brought back into the moment by Keith saying his name, looking down at him with concern.

“You zoned out, there. Are you okay?” Keith asks, smoothing his hand down Shiro’s thigh against his side, and Shiro nods.

“Sorry, I’m okay, I think I’ve had enough to drink, though.”

Keith huffs a small laugh at that, smiling softly as he leans over Shiro again, kissing him slow.

“You ready?”

Shiro nods again, glancing over Keith’s shoulder when he looks down between them, meeting Kuro’s stare.

He really has had too much to drink, , everything a little fuzzy around the edges, Kuro’s face morphing into that of concern, and Shiro can vaguely hear him saying something, repeating Keith’s earlier question, maybe, but it seems too far away.

Shiro tries to answer in his head, but Keith turns to look over his shoulder before he can, jumping back and reaching for the dagger he’d thrown aside with his pants earlier.

“What the fuck-!” Keith stands there by the bed, naked with his blade in hand, eyes wide.

“Keith what’s- what’s wrong?” Shiro asks, panicking a bit at the sudden reaction as he sits up.

“What’s wrong?!” Keith almost shouts, incredulous. “There’s another- There’s another _you!”_ He exclaims, pointing with his knife in the general direction of Kuro, and Shiro freezes.

“You can…see him?” He asks, Keith furrowing his brow.

“Can I- _yes,_ I can see him. Shiro what…what the…” He lowers his knife, some, swallowing thick. “You’re not shocked by this. You, he’s been here a while, hasn’t he?” Keith then asks, looking warily between Shiro and Kuro. “I thought you said it was a _dream?”_

“You said I was a dream?” Kuro asks, and Shiro looks between him and Keith, mouth agape in the face of their expectant stares.

“I thought it was- I thought you were, at first.” Shiro says, drawing his legs closed, feeling way too exposed all of a sudden. “Wouldn’t you have thought it was a dream, if someone who looked just like you appeared out of nowhere?” He continues, and Kuro purses his lips, tilting his head and shrugging a shoulder.

“I guess.”

Keith drops his dagger and rubs a hand down his face with a disbelieving laugh. “Two Shiro’s…” He murmurs, slowly sitting back down on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, past Kuro for a long moment. “You got anywhere to be?” He suddenly asks, and Kuro flinches.

“Uh…Me?” Kuro asks, at the same time as Shiro says, “Him?”

Keith huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, him.” He says, and Shiro watches Kuro fidget somewhat, clearly unsure of how to feel about the situation.

Shiro doesn’t know how to feel, either.

“No…?” Kuro belatedly answers, standing straight with his back against the wall, as if scared to move.

“So are you gonna just stand by and watch, or are you gonna join us?” Keith turns his gaze from Kuro to Shiro. “You guys are...like that, right?”

Shiro and Kuro stare at each other for a long moment, before Shiro slowly nods.

And that’s how Shiro ended up pressed between Keith and Kuro, panting shallowly as the two touch him over, talking to one another as if Shiro isn’t point three seconds away from coming.

“You're really okay with this?” Kuro asks, looking over Shiro's shoulder at Keith, who kisses his way down Shiro's neck, his shoulder, looking up at Kuro, smiling softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” Keith answers, hands on Shiro’s hips.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

Keith huffs a small laugh, and Shiro shivers when he feels Keith’s lips just beneath his ear.

“I think it’s insane,” He says, “But I also really, really like it.”

“Guys, please…” Shiro near whines, pressing his forehead to Kuro’s collarbone, and Keith finally takes pity on him, lining himself up and sliding in slowly, Kuro kissing Shiro and muffling the moan that emits from him as he does so.

“Fuck,” Keith murmurs, thrusting slow, fingers flexing where they hold onto Shiro. “You two look so good…”

Kuro groans softly against Shiro, tilting his head to deepen their kiss just as Keith ups the pace, fucking Shiro a bit harder, pressing his forehead to the nape of Shiro’s neck.

“Kuro-“ Shiro pants mid-kiss, when Kuro pulls back enough to bite at his lip, the man humming in response. “Wanna suck you off, please-“

“Fuck, yeah,” Kuro pulls back entirely, shifting back and helping Shiro lean down to take him into his mouth, licking his way from base to tip messily, moaning with the way Keith fucks him from behind, his own cock dripping onto the sheets below.

“He’s so good,” Shiro hears Keith say, shifting his hips just right in a way that has Shiro’s eyes rolling back, Kuro’s cock nudging its way toward the back of his throat as he swallows around him.

“He’s amazing.“ Kuro agrees, fingers stroking through Shiro’s hair, pushing it back off of his face as he stares down at him with bright eyes. “Taking us so well, aren’t you, baby?”

Shiro moans, nodding as best he can with a mouth full of cock, and Kuro grins, stroking his cheek.

Shiro gets lost in it, after that, the sensation of Keith and Kuro’s hands on him, their cocks in him, dragging heavy back and forth, and it draws him closer and closer to orgasm.

“You close?” Keith asks, pants, and Shiro pulls back, letting Kuro’s cock drop from his mouth as moans in answer, Keith grazing over his prostate. “I’ll take that, as a yes.” Keith says, pulling Shiro’s hips back as he moves his forward, their skin slapping together, and Shiro looks up at Kuro with his lips parted, tongue flicking out to lick at him, incapable of doing much more in that moment.

Kuro doesn’t seem to mind too much, taking ahold of himself and stroking in front of Shiro’s face, coming over his lips and chin with a groan as Shiro mouths at him through it, before Kuro’s pulling Shiro up, and leaning down to meet him in a kiss, Shiro’s eyes fluttering closed.

He cums shortly after, Keith holding him tight and kissing his neck as Kuro presses flush to Shiro’s front, and Keith follows last, pausing as deep as he can reach as he does so, exhaling a shaky groan.

Getting into the shower together afterwards is a feat, squeezing into the cubicle with Shiro turning back and forth, letting himself be cleaned and kissed by the other two.

“Stay with me,” Shiro says as Keith goes to gather his clothes, afterwards, taking ahold of his hand. “Don’t leave tonight.” He turns to Kuro, then. “Both of you.”

Keith steps close, squeezing Shiro’s hand and kissing him slowly. “Okay…” He whispers, just as Kuro walks toward them, too. “I’ll stay.”

Fitting in the bed is not unlike getting into the shower, shifting around until they manage to find a comfortable way to lie together, tangled with one another under the covers.

It’s quiet, then, one of Keith’s, and one of Kuro’s arms over Shiro’s side, Shiro staring into gold eyes before his own begin to close.

_“Do you love him?”_ It’s whispered, and Shiro’s too asleep to react.

_“Yes. Do you?”_

_“Yeah, I do.”_

Shiro wakes up slowly with Keith at his back, but Kuro is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

They go over the plan again, then proceed to begin with Shiro baiting Zarkon into finding his location in the Black Lion.

After the Blades speak their concern of lack of contact from the member working within Zarkon’s fleet, Keith volunteers to take his place on the inside of Zarkon’s ship, much to Kolivan’s disdain, the Galran arguing that he’d never command someone so experienced with that dangerous of a task.

_“No one’s commanding me, I’m doing it.”_ Comes Keith’s answer, as stubborn as ever.

Shiro has to make the final call, he knows he does. He trusts Keith can do this, has to fight past the pain in his chest, the small voice in the back of his mind telling him all that could go wrong.

“Pidge, get that pod ready.” He says. “Keith,” Shiro pauses, closing his eyes for a second before looking back toward the screen. “Let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll give you cover.”

It’s then that all Shiro can do is wait.

He waits until his dashboard lights up as the fleet of enemy ships start to appear, and he announces their presence to the others before flying straight into combat.

“I got Zarkon on the hook, bringing him your way.” Shiro says, before turning his attention to the channel connected to the pod. “Keith, you ready? We’ve only got one shot at this.”

_“Engaging cloaking device.”_ Keith replies through their comms. _“Moving toward the fleet now.”_

“Roger that. I don’t see you, but I’m locked on your signal. I’ll clear a path.”

And clear a path he does; fending off fighters left, right and centre, making his way toward the main ship with Keith on his tail in the cloaked pod.

He swerves and turns around once reaching the ship, heading back the way he’d come.

_“Thanks, Shiro!”_ Keith calls, _“I’m coming in hot!”_ Shiro hears Keith crash landing, daring to glance back and ensure he’s okay, taking a steadying breath as he waits. _“I’m in.”_ Keith says after a moment, and Shiro nods to himself.

“You knew he could do it.” Kuro says from beside Shiro’s seat, crouching beside him and staring out the view screen. “He’s one hell of a fighter.”

Allura speaks over the comms, followed closely by Lance and Slav, their plan officially underway and successful thus far.

“He is. He really is.” Shiro says after a moment, sparing a quick look toward Kuro, giving a quick smile before concentrating on what’s in front of him once more. “I’m two minutes out, is everybody ready?”

_“No, Keith hasn’t made it to the hub yet. We need more time.”_ Comes Kolivan’s reply, and Shiro grunts as he’s shot at.

“How much more?” He asks, somewhat strained.

_“I hope not much, because my gravity generator is not going to run forever.”_ Slav suddenly interjects, and Shiro grits his teeth.

“Well I don’t know how much longer I can hold Zarkon’s fleet in this position by myself!”

It’s then that Pidge flies past Shiro in the Green Lion, the others close by.

_“You won’t have to!”_ She says, and Shiro smiles.

“Good timing.” He says. “Okay, we’ve got Zarkon’s ship right where it needs to be. We gotta keep it here until that virus is uploaded.”

He’s met with affirmatives from the others as they head toward the ship together, fighting off whatever they can in the meantime.

_“Somebody, anybody- a little help here?!”_ Hunk frantically calls through the comms.

“Lure ‘em to me!” Shiro calls back, cutting at the fighters with his Lion’s jaw blade, and they blow up in its wake.

Allura warns them of Zarkon’s ships’ shift out of their range of effect, and Shiro tenses his jaw as they continue to fight, hearing Lance ask Keith how he’s doing.

_“The Galra switched the codes, we’re trying to work around.”_

_“We? Who’s we?”_

_“Thace. I found him. I’ll explain later.”_

“Copy that.” Shiro answers, shifting in his seat and glancing at the fighters ahead.

“I knew this was going to be a difficult battle, but shit.” Kuro suddenly says, and Shiro can’t help the huff of a laugh he gives, shaking his head.

Shit doesn't even begin to cover it.

Slav’s frantic, now, speaking a million miles more than usual over the comms about how he’s not sure if the generator will last, that it’ll go down and they’ll be visible to the fleet once it does.

“Do all you can, we just need to hold out a little longer.” Shiro says, pushing aside his annoyance for the creature and concentrate on the fight, on ensuring they’ll make it through.

It’s barely a few moments later when Slav’s voice comes through the comms once more.

_“The gravity generator just lost power! Now there’s no reality where we all get out alive!”_ He cries out, and Shiro stares, wide-eyed as the castleship and teleduv appear, flying up toward them.

“Come on, Keith…” He murmurs, Kuro’s hand landing on his shoulder for a second before he pulls back, giving Shiro space.

_“What do we do?!”_ Pidge asks, panicked.

“We can’t do anything. If Keith doesn’t get Zarkon’s ship shut down, we’re done for, it’s over.” He says, the truth harsh to his own ears, but he pushes through it.

_“We cannot wait any longer. I’m powering up the teleduv now.”_ Allura says, just as the teleduv begins to light up.

Shiro watches as an explosion erupts from Zarkon’s ship, sees the red lion fly out from the castleship toward it, toward Keith, as the ship shuts down, and Allura presses forward with the wormhole, Zarkon’s ship entering the portal.

The lions follow the castleship after Zarkon’s ship into the wormhole, Shiro opening up a channel to the castle.

“Coran, how’s Allura?” He asks, Coran staring down at the princess in his hold.

_“She’s weak, but okay.”_ He answers.

“You take care of her, we’ve got it from here.” Shiro assures, before flicking off his channel, leading the others out of the other side of the wormhole after Zarkon’s ship.

There’s a victorious cry from Pidge, Slav adding to the good spirit before Shiro has to remind them that the fight is yet to be over.

They still need to form Voltron if they want to take down Zarkon and end his rein for good.

"We've gotta act fast.” Shiro starts, staring up at the dormant ship before them. “The power will only be down for twenty minutes. The Blade of Mamora schematics show four targets we need to hit. The weapons systems, the engines, the bridge and the shield generators. Now let’s put an end to Zarkon, once, and for all.”

There’s a chorus of agreeing cheers from the others, before Shiro commands them to form Voltron’s sword, flying upward and dragging its blade over the ship, a trail of flames and destruction in their wake.

Shiro continues to command the team, using Voltrons’ weapons systems to take down the ship bit by bit.

_We’re nearly there,_ Shiro thinks, as yet another part of the ship erupts in flames. _We’re winning._

It’s then that a black hole opens up beneath them, and they’re struck by a bolt of magic that leaves Voltron immobile, floating midair.

_Shiro…wake up, please wake-_

_“Paladins, can you hear me?!”_ Allura calls out, sounding too far away, Shiro blinking his eyes open slowly, Kuro’s blurry figure in front of him, holding his face.

“Yes, Princess. We’re alive.” Shiro manages to answer groggily, watching Kuro’s face as it comes into clearer focus, tears on his cheeks.

_“Is Voltron operational?”_ Allura then asks, Shiro unable to answer as Kuro pulls him close, pressing his forehead to the front of Shiro’s helmet.

_“It’s not working.”_ Hunk says.

_“I can’t move my lion.”_ Keith answers just after, followed closely by Coran’s explanation of what had happened; that they’d been hit by some form of witchcraft that drew the quintessence from Voltron and in turn, from them.

_“You need to get out of there. Another hit like that and you may not survive!”_

_“Wait…”_ Lance suddenly says. _“What’s that?”_

Shiro and Kuro both look up toward the view screen, where they can see a hatch opening on Zarkon’s ship, a robotic creature emerging.

_“You must get moving. Remember your training, remember all the battles you’ve been through!”_

Shiro barely processes what Allura’s saying, reaching for the controls and shifting them to no avail, staring up first at Kuro then to the looming robot above, eyes wide, panic taking over.

“Voltron’s still not responding,” He says, eyes widening when the creature’s stare seems to lock right on him, and him alone, staring _through_ him, when he suddenly realises what, who, that robot is. “It’s Zarkon.”

The team are forced to watch as Allura flies the castleship right at Zarkon as he flies toward Voltron, shooting at him with the castles’ weapons defences only to have it deflect off of him and ricochet right back toward the castle.

“Allura!” Shiro cries out, staring in horror as the castleship gets knocked off its axis, floating immobile, powered down and not unlike Voltron is in that current second.

They’re struck silent for a long moment, Shiro staring down, his face hardening with determination.

“Everybody, listen.” He starts, voice somewhat shaky. “We have to_ fight._ We have to channel all our energy, visualise _five_ becoming _one._ We have to focus everything we have into moving Voltron.” Shiro looks up, then, sees Zarkon stand again from where he’d been pushed against the side of his ship, feels Kuro’s hand drop onto his shoulder and squeeze, half comfort, half encouragement, before he fades. “We are the last thing standing in the way of Zarkon’s total universal domination. I’m not giving up that fight. Are you, Hunk?”

_“No.”_

“Pidge?”

_“Never.”_

“Lance?”

_“Let’s go down swinging.”_

“Keith…?”

_“I’m all in.”_

Shiro exhales a relieved breath, feeling as one by one, the lions power up once more, Voltron coming back to life just as Zarkon brandishes a sword and launches himself right toward them.

“Then let’s get Voltron back in this battle!”

Voltron fully powers back up, forming their sword once more and colliding with Zarkon, dodging his attacks as best they can, blocking and manoeuvring their way around him and his blows before flying upward, Zarkon following after them, continuing to fight.

“Alright, let’s hit it with the big guns. Hunk, form shoulder canon!” The yellow Lion’s Bayard is activated and the giant canon appears on Voltron’s shoulder. “Fire!” Shiro commands, and the weapon fires its beam at Zarkon, but he deflects the blast, using the wings on his robotic suit as a shield.

A blackhole, not unlike the one that immobilised them earlier opens up once more, but they manage to dodge the strike from it, at the cost of Zarkon crashing into them, hurtling them through the sky. They shoot at him to no avail, Zarkon dodging their shots and swinging his sword their way, but Voltron parries it with their own, blades connected as they stare off one another before Zarkon throws Voltron back.

Voltron shoots at Zarkon once more as he flies toward them, but he’s able to deflect the blow yet again, throwing Voltron back as he does so.

_“We’ve never faced anything this powerful before.”_ Pidge says from over their comms, and Shiro clenches his jaw.

“One way or another, this may be our last battle, we’ve gotta give everything we have. Dig deep, and fight!”

Voltron steadies, before firing forward toward Zarkon, fighting back and forth, taking the brunt of multiple hits, but getting a few in, themselves, until they’re pressed sword to sword yet again.

There’s a force, familiar and unwelcome in Shiro’s mind, as Zarkon tries to connect with the Black Lion.

“He’s trying to control my lion,” Shiro manages through a grunt. “I can feel him in my mind-“

_“Fight it, Shiro!”_ Keith suddenly calls out, along with another voice that sounds like his own, but isn’t.

_Kuro._

Letting Voltron fall back, Shiro pushes the sparse connection Zarkon had away for the moment before propelling forward, thrusting their sword and stabbing Zarkon through the chest of his robotic armour, but then a chain of sorts wraps itself around Voltrons’ neck, overwhelming them with power so harsh it disbands them from one another, floating helplessly in space, and everything goes black.

There are voices, they’re faint; muffled, and Shiro opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the Black Lion’s cockpit.

_“We can’t give up!”_

_Keith…?_

Shiro sits up slowly, looking out of the view screen, watching as the others fight Zarkon without him, getting knocked around, nothing but their pained voices in his ears, seemingly surrounding him.

_Look to your right._ A clear voice amidst the rest, and Shiro lifts his gaze to his right and sees the device within the Lion for their Bayard rising, and Shiro stares at it, knowing what he has to do.

Shiro gets his Lion into gear, flying straight toward Zarkon, his connection to the Lion growing stronger than it ever has before in that very moment, flashes of himself and the Lion meld together in his mind, the Black Lion’s wings extending to their full size as he flies right at, then through, Zarkon, before the Lion’s wings retract.

_“Whoa…What did you do?”_ Lance’s awed voice comes through the comms, and Shiro, in awe himself, holds up the Black Bayard.

“I…I got Zarkon’s Bayard…”

_“You mean you’ve got _your_ Bayard.”_ Keith corrects, just as the weapon shifts to its default design in Shiro’s hand, and he glances outward, at the wreckage of their battle thus far.

“We’ve only got a few more minutes before power returns to Zarkon’s ship.” Shiro says, before commanding once more: “Form Voltron!”

They continue to fight, Shiro’s eyes widening when their communications channel to the castleship opens, and Coran’s voice sounds from the other side.

_“Hello, Paladins!”_ He says, and Shiro grins at the voice.

_“You’re alive!”_ Hunk exclaims.

“Is everyone okay?” Shiro asks, needing to check after so long without contact, of having assumed the worse of the Altean’s fate.

_“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry, guys.”_ Comes Slav’s sudden reply.

_“Oh, great. Slav made it.”_ Lance says, voice lacking of any sort of enthusiasm whatsoever.

They can’t dwell on the survival of their peers on the ship for long, however, as Zarkon charges at them, their fight yet to be over, and their time running low for any chance at winning with the power returning on Zarkon’s ship, Coran warning them as such, Voltron and Zarkon colliding in a clash of weapons.

“This is our last chance, let’s finish this!” Shiro shouts, shifting his controls and throwing Voltron forward with all the team’s might, smashing into Zarkon in a burst of light and stabbing him in the stomach, just as Zarkon manages to grip Voltron’s head, electricity searing through them.

_Your Bayard! Use your Bayard!_

An insistent cry in his mind, and Shiro looks to the Bayard’s activation device, slamming it place and twisting, the sword in Zarkon’s stomach extending and erupting into flame, cutting straight through him, and slicing upward with Keith’s control, the team battle crying in unison, throwing Zarkon back with the brunt of their power.

The electricity is still coursing through Voltron, though, and Shiro squeezes his eyes shut, connecting with his Lion and forcing them and the others to disband just as an explosion from Zarkon erupts and blinds them with white light.

Shiro gets thrown backward with the force, everything going black for a second before he’s looking through the Lion’s eyes, panting and sitting on a ground that seems to barely be a ground at all, partially floating, staring wide-eyed at the other lions, floating amidst debris, powered down.

They start up again one by one, voices speaking from every which direction, a question, a command, Keith calling his name.

_Keith._

Shiro steps forward, but he feels like he’s not even there, he’s-

He’s not there.

Shiro looks around, sees Keith and Pidge carry the Black Lion back to the castleship, sees the pilot seat and the dim dashboard.

But it’s hazy, like looking at it through glass, turning his head and meeting a familiar view of endless stars instead of the back of the Lion’s cockpit.

Shiro doesn’t want to accept where he is, not yet.

_“Shiro!”_ Keith’s running toward him, toward the Black Lion, the team in tow, and all Shiro can do is watch as they discover he’s not there, in the pilot seat of his lion. “Shiro?” Keith asks, and it pains him to see the way Keith’s trying so hard to hold everything back in that moment as the others surround him, staring at the empty seat with equally shocked and confused expressions.

“He’s gone…” Lance says, and Shiro wants to scream.

_“I’m right here, please, Keith…”_ He reaches for them, so close yet so far away, dropping to his knees. _“I’m right here…”_

* * *

It feels like he’s been here for days, months, minutes, Shiro’s lost track of how long he’s been surrounded by nothing but unreachable stars, watching over the team through the eyes of the Black Lion in the astral plane.

He’s come to accept that that’s where he is, now, there’s no denying it.

He stands by and watches from afar as one by one, Allura and the paladins sit where he once sat and try to connect with the Black Lion.

They need a new leader, after all, because he’s gone.

Shiro stands there and watches as they speak to the lion, but she sits dormant, too quiet until Keith comes in, and Shiro can hear her, almost as if she’s purring.

Shiro walks closer to Keith, listens as he talks about knowing that this is what Shiro wanted, but that he can’t do it.

_“You can, Keith. I know you can.”_ Shiro crouches in front of Keith’s slumped frame, touching his hand atop the controls, and they light up, Keith’s head lifting.

“No…” He murmurs, voice cracking with emotion, and Shiro leans upward, pressing his forehead to Keith’s.

_“Lead them, Keith.”_ Shiro whispers, smiling sadly. _“I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”_

* * *

Shiro keeps losing count of the stars.

He keeps forgetting to blink, to breathe, sitting here in the middle of another realm, or walking around idly with no location to go to.

Keith’s leading Voltron, now.

He started off a little rough, but he’s learning, just as Shiro knew he would.

Shiro smiles when he thinks of him, when he thinks of Kuro, wondering where he is.

Until he isn’t.

He isn’t, because Kuro appears in the astral plane with him.

He’s far away, at first, and Shiro thinks he’s truly gone mad, even after death, but then his eyes meet gold, and before he can comprehend what’s happening, he’s running over to meet him as Kuro does the same.

They collide in a crashing hug that has them tumbling downward, and it should hurt, they should hit the floor, but they don’t, floating instead.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro-“ Kuro’s saying, crying, holding Shiro close and sobbing into the side of his neck. “I tried to stay with Keith, but I knew I was bound to follow you- I couldn’t tell him you died- I couldn’t do that to him, I’m so sorry-“

Shiro pulls Kuro impossibly closer, pressing his face to the crook of his neck, sucking in a sharp breath, refusing to cry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay-“ He tries to insist, but Kuro cuts him off.

“I told him I was going to look for you.” Kuro says, pulling back enough to meet Shiro’s eye, and they’re shining so bright. “He’s looking, too, but he can’t stray too far from the team,” Kuro exhales shakily, pushing through. “I told him I could, though. I told him I’d find you. I hated lying to him, knowing already what had happened, but I couldn’t tell him the truth- I couldn’t hurt him like that-“

“Kuro,” Shiro interrupts, a tear rolling down his cheek, and he sniffs slightly. “Thank you, for trying.”

Kuro’s panting, and his face crumples slightly, surging forward to kiss Shiro, and it feels weird, kissing someone in the astral plane.

“We’ll get back to him, again.” Shiro whispers, after they’ve pulled apart, and Kuro nods, head tilting into Shiro’s palm when he cups the side of his face, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“He’ll find us.” Kuro whispers back, and Shiro exhales shakily, pulling Kuro closer, kissing him again.

“He’ll find us.” He echoes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if you've gotten this far, I hope you enjoyed


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